


hold onto me

by fauxghost



Series: Carry On Countdown (2017) [4]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Carry On Countdown, Carry On Countdown 2017, Cuddling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, my favorite trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12887076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxghost/pseuds/fauxghost
Summary: Baz is having nightmares about losing control and hurting Simon.Simon just wants to help.





	hold onto me

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7: Favorite Trope  
> (title from the song Hold Onto Me by Mayday Parade)

**Baz**

_ I lost control. _

_ I should have never started fighting with Simon when I hadn’t fed in a few days. I should have stayed far away from him. _

_ I should have died in the Nursery. _

_ I’m standing over Simon and there’s blood everywhere, dripping down his neck, soaking the ground below us. It’s on my hands and it’s in my mouth and it tastes so  _ good  _ it takes everything I have to stop myself from giving in, from taking more. He looks so vulnerable right now, passed out on the stone ground of the Catacombs, dark red blood standing out against his pasty skin. Simon Snow was never meant to look so defeated. I lean down, waiting for him to wake up and look at me with disgust, to kill me like he was always supposed to, but he doesn’t move. He’s not breathing, painfully still. Lifeless. _

_ Simon Snow is dead. _

_ Simon Snow is dead and the last thing he ever saw was me - fangs bared with fear and desperation in my eyes.  _

_ The last thing he ever felt was pain.  _

_ And it’s all my fault. _

_ Somewhere in the back of my head I can hear myself pleading with him to come back, even though I know he won’t respond. I never wanted to hurt him, not like this. Never like this.  _

_ This isn’t how things were supposed to end. _

 

**Simon**

Baz is having another nightmare.

He has them all the time - we both do - but lately they’ve been getting worse. Right now he’s tossing and turning, thrashing around in his sleep. His breaths are heavy, panicked. I’m sure it would have woken me up if I wasn’t already awake, avoiding my own demons. 

I’ve never tried to guess what Baz’s nightmares are about, and of course I’ve never asked him. But now I think I know, because he’s talking in his sleep.

“No! Simon, please.”

I sit up, leaning closer to his bed. His eyes are screwed shut, he’s still in the nightmare.  _ I’m  _ in the nightmare, apparently.

“Please, Simon please _.  _ No, I can’t- I didn’t…  _ please. _ ”

Baz is crying now, pleading, begging, saying my name over and over again. I can’t take it. 

“Baz? Baz, wake up!” I cross to his bed, sitting on the edge. “Wake up, Baz.”

He finally does, eyes shooting open in alarm. “Simon?”

Before I can figure out what to say, Baz is throwing his arms around me, sobbing. He’s still saying my name,  _ Simon, Simon, Simon _ . I hesitantly hug him back. “It’s… okay, Baz. It’s okay.”

“Simon,” Baz says in between hiccuped breaths. I’m not used to him saying my first name. I’m not used to his touch - he’s never touched me like this before.

“It was just a dream. It’s okay.” I whisper. I can’t believe he’s even letting me touch him, after he just dreamed about me hurting him, or killing him, or whatever I was doing to him in the nightmare.

After a minute, Baz seems to come to his senses, realizing what he’s doing. He pulls back, grey eyes wide. I follow his lead, letting go of him. “I’m sorry, Snow, I-  _ fuck _ , I’m sorry.”

I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen Baz lose his composure like this. “...It’s okay.”

I can tell he’s trying to get himself back together, but he’s still shaking. He’s still crying, too, although he’s furiously wiping at the tears. “I’m sorry for waking you up… You can just… go back to sleep now.” His voice is unsteady.

“It’s okay.” I mentally punch myself in the face. Is that the only thing I can say? “Um… are you okay?” 

He laughs at that, bitterly, burying his face in his hands. “No.”

“I- um… you…” I want to help. I don’t know how, and I definitely don’t know  _ why _ , but I want to help him. I tentatively touch his arm. “You don’t have to be alone.”

Baz peeks up at me, looking from my hand on his arm, to me, back to my hand. Slowly, despondently, he moves closer to me until we’re back in our previous position. His arms around my shoulders, face buried into my neck. My arms around his waist. He’s crying harder now, letting it out. I can feel all of his shaky breaths against my bare skin. I don’t say anything, but instead opt for rubbing his back with soft, slow circles. I wait for him to pull away, to yell at me, but he doesn’t. He just keeps crying. I’ve never seen Baz cry before. It’s a heartbreaking sight.

“I’m sorry.” He sniffles.

“Don’t be.” I somehow feel like it’s my fault - the nightmare. I don’t want him to apologize. 

Baz calms down a bit after a few minutes. Tears are still occasionally falling from his eyes, but he’s not shaking anymore. He pulls away, just enough to look at me. “Is this okay?”

“It’s fine.” I keep rubbing his back, to prove to him I’m telling the truth. Also, I think it’s helping. “I want to help.”

“You do?” 

The shock in his voice makes me feel even guiltier. “Yeah, how can I help you?”

“Just… can you…” Baz wrestles with what to say, and then doesn’t say anything.

I move one of my arms from where it’s wrapped around him, so I can move a piece of hair that fell in his face. I want to wipe his tears, too, but I don’t. “Can I what?” 

“Stay with me?” Baz is wincing, like he doesn’t want to say it.

My heart pounds. “I can do that.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I let go of Baz so he can lay down. Before I settle down next to him, I clear my throat awkwardly. “Um. One second.” 

I quickly move to the wardrobe, pulling on a random shirt. Then I go back to Baz, who has scooted over to make room for me. He’s looking at me nervously, like I’m going to leave or make fun or him something. Every time I think back to his painfully hopeless pleading, the way he was saying my name, I know I couldn’t do that. Wordlessly, I get into the bed and lay down. There’s just enough room for us to lay side by side, but not without our arms being pressed up against the other’s. Baz’s skin is cold, as always.

I look over at him, our faces our close. He’s staring up at the ceiling. “Um, Baz?”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t hurt you. You know that, right?” I blurt out. “I mean… I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Now he turns to face me. “What?”

“The dream.” I hate to bring it up, but I feel like I need to say this. “It’s not… it’s not even close to being real. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Baz sighs. “You’re an idiot.”

“Um…” That wasn’t the response I was expecting. 

“That’s not what happened in the dream.”

I purse my lips. “You don’t have to lie, Baz, I heard you talking you in your sleep.”

“I killed you.”

“...What?”

“In the dream.” Baz starts to tear up again. “I killed you.”

_ “Oh.” _ That was the last thing I suspected. “Wait… what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Snow.”

_ You called me Simon before,  _ I want to say. Instead, I say, “Okay. Do you want to sleep?”

He nods.

“Goodnight, Baz.”

He doesn’t respond, but as I’m drifting off to sleep I think I hear him say, “Thank you.”

 

**Baz**

I wake up with my head on Simon’s shoulder.

_ Fuck. _

Last night comes rushing back to me - my tears of anguish, Simon’s comforting words, his soft skin, my pitiful “Stay with me?”

I’m so. completely. fucked.

I can’t believe I allowed myself to break like that, in front of Simon, of all people.

I can’t believe he let me cry in his arms,  _ Crowley. _

Now my head is on his shoulder, and he has an arm draped across my waist. We fell asleep stiffly, side by side, and sometime during the night we ended up tangling with each other. I definitely can’t move without waking him up. He’s sleeping peacefully, stomach rising up and down with slow breaths. I’m pretty sure he’s never been this close to me while looking so relaxed. Part of me wants to stay like this, to soak up the warmth of his touch before he never touches me like this again. The rest of me wants to run far away, before I get hurt. 

_ “I won’t hurt you.”  _ Simon’s words rush through my head.

He already has. Not that it’s his fault.

Simon wakes up like he always does, groggily stirring, eyes fluttering. I’ve seen it a million times, but never this close.  _ How does one look that beautiful in the morning?  _ It must have something to do with the morning sunlight filtering through the window, hitting his freckled face just right. Eventually, he becomes alert enough to realize where he is. I’ve moved my head from where it was resting on him, but his arm is still casually wrapped around my waist. “Oh.” He says, slowly taking his arm back and sitting up. “Morning.”

I move past him, going to the bathroom. 

“Baz, are you okay?” He calls after me.

I turn around. He’s still sitting on my bed as if it’s perfectly normal for him to be there. “Does it matter?”

Simon’s eyebrows crease. “Um… yes?” 

He’s still acting like he did last night, like he cares about me. I can’t handle him looking at me like this. “I… Look, I’m sorry about last night, okay?”

“You don’t have to be-”

I cut him off. “Can we just forget about it?” 

“If that’s what you want.” Simon stands up, crossing to his own bed.

“That’s what I want.” I say. “I want to forget about it.”

Simon looks up at me with a glint in his eyes and a small smile. “Forget about what?”

I blink. He’s being way too good to me, it’s weird. “Thanks,” I say quietly, and then rush into the bathroom.

I’m never going to be able to forget about it.

 

**Simon**

I can’t forget about it.

During school all I can think about is Baz. That’s nothing new, but now I’m thinking about him calling out my name in his sleep, crying in my arms, falling asleep next to me. I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way about my enemy, but I can’t help it. I’ve never seen Baz more vulnerable than he was last night. Instead of this flawless, ruthless villain, he was just… a boy. And don’t even get me started on the content of his nightmare. Naturally, I assumed he was dreaming about me hurting him - why would I ever think he would cry over killing me? Again, he’s my enemy. Hell, I’m pretty sure he’s tried to kill me multiple times. I always thought I would be dead by now if it weren’t for Anathema. 

Baz dreaming about killing me? Totally plausible.

Baz having a  _ nightmare  _ about killing me and falling apart over it? That doesn’t make any sense.

Instinctively, I wonder if this is some kind of plot, but even Baz isn’t that good of an actor. Those were real tears, and I can’t get them out of my head. 

 

I wear a shirt to bed tonight, just in case.

 

Later that night, I wake up to Baz frantically rustling around the room. He throws on a jumper and shoes - heading for the door. I can tell he’s crying, even though he’s trying to be quiet. Before he reaches the door I call out to him. “Baz?”

_ “Simon.”  _ He turns around, but it’s too dark in here to see his face.

“Are you okay?” I get up, walking to him, which causes him to look away and reach for the doorknob. “Wait, you can’t go out there! It’s freezing.”

Baz drops his hand, but he doesn’t look at me. He’s not saying anything, just standing there, shaking the same way he was last night. 

“If you want to be alone, I can go.” I offer.

At that, he finally meets my eyes. We’re close enough now for me to see the tears running down his cheeks - a look I’ll never get used to on Baz. “What the hell, Snow? Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I have them too,” I say. “Nightmares. And I… don’t like seeing you suffer.”

“I don’t want your pity.” Baz sniffs, trying to sound harsh but failing.

“I just want to help you.” I confess. “I care, okay?”

His only response is, “You shouldn’t.”

Baz isn’t panicking like last night, it’s more contained this time. He’s still shaking, but he clenches his fists to get it under control. He’s blinking back the tears. I do the only thing I can think of - I take his arm and lead him to my bed. He sits on the edge of it without protest. “Where were you going?”

“I don’t know, just… out.” He wipes a tear away. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“That’s stupid.” I blurt out. “I mean… because I don’t mind.”

“ _ You’re  _ stupid.” He grumbles. That’s the Baz I know.

I smile, which probably wasn’t the response Baz was expecting because his expression falters. As slowly as I possibly can, giving him the chance to push me away if he wants to, I wrap my arms around him. To my surprise, he leans into the hug. Just like last night, he buries his face into my neck, and it makes me shudder for some reason. My heart aches when Baz starts crying harder, stammering out an explanation: “It was worse tonight, you… you were  _ dead  _ and it was my fault and I couldn’t save you, I… couldn’t-” 

“It’s okay, Baz, it’s alright.” I whisper, trying to calm him down. “I’m here, I’m alive.”

Eventually we lie down in my bed together. Once he had stopped crying I asked him if last night helped - sleeping with me.

“I wanted to forget about last night.”

“I don’t think you can, if you keep having nightmares. Did it help, Baz?”

“I didn’t have another nightmare, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“We can do it again.”

He took issue with that. “You’re willing to do that? With me?”

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

Baz kept protesting even as he settled down next to me, telling me I make no sense and that I should stop playing the hero. 

I ignore his taunts. “Um, do you want me to…?” Hesitantly, I place a hand on his waist.

He shivers -  _ Crowley  _ \- but nods. 

“Okay,” I say, just to fill the silence as we wrap our arms around each other. We fit strangely well together, being enemies and all. “Do you want to try to sleep?”

“No,” Baz breathes. His voice is strained. “Can you just… maybe… talk?”

I don’t know what he’s getting at. “You want to talk about the nightmares?”

Baz shakes his head, arms tightening around me. “No. Can you just talk about… anything else? I don’t think I can sleep.”

I’ve never been very good at talking, least of all to Baz. It’s probably why I’m so terrible at magic, I can never get the spells right. He’s usually the smooth one, while I get flustered easily can’t find the right words. But tonight, I try not to worry about what I’m saying. I tell him stories, mostly about my adventures with Penny, I rant about our Astrology professor, I go off on random tangents that I never thought Basilton Grimm-Pitch would care to listen to. Remarkably, I speak without making a fool of myself, and Baz does listen - he even laughs a few times. I’m starting to get sleepy, and my voice is tired, but I don't care. I’m still trying to understand why, but I’m beginning to realize that I would stay up all night for this boy.

 

**Baz**

I’m staring in disbelief as Simon has his arms wrapped around me and is talking to me without a care in the world, telling me some story about Penny sneaking a stray cat into Watford during 6th year and trying to hide it from her roommate. In all my years of knowing Simon I don’t think he’s ever looked at me like this - like he needs to be gentle with me. Like I matter to him. He’s lying here, cuddling with me, his sworn enemy, simply because he  _ wants  _ to help me. He’s giggling at one of his own stories now, eyes lit up with glee, his face sculpted by moonlight.  _ Alive alive alive.  _ I’m trying to convince myself that he’s just being a hero, the Chosen One he’s been taught to be. I’m trying not to let myself hope that things are actually going to change between us.

_ I do know one thing _ , I think as Simon absentmindedly rubs my back while smiling about whatever story he’s telling now ( _ alive) _ . 

My nightmares are bullshit.

I would never hurt him.

I’m haunted with images of Simon bleeding out on the cold ground because of me, his screams of pain, his beautiful eyes becoming unmoving and lifeless. They’re so real that I don’t think I can ever forget them - but I know they will only ever exist in my head.

I say it out loud without realizing it, “I don’t want to hurt you, Simon.”

“...I know.” 

“You do?”  

“I’m not that thick, Baz.” He says gently. “I kind of picked up on the fact that you don’t want to hurt me, given the nightmares and everything.”

I’m still kind of shocked. “You believe me?”

He laughs, exasperated but kindly. “Yes. But can I ask you something?”

I nod.

“I do believe you,” He starts. “But why are we always fighting, then?”

I can’t exactly answer that. I can’t exactly tell him that I spent years doing what was expected of me, becoming the enemy of the Mage’s Heir, until I fell in love with him. Then I fought him harder, because I hated him - I hated that I loved him. I regret all of it now, as I’m cradled in his arms. Simon is looking at me expectantly, so I weakly say, “Truce?”

 

**Simon**

I laugh at that. I feel like Baz is hiding something from me, but I’m not going to push him. I think I do want a truce. I think I want  _ this _ , whatever this is. Baz, in my arms. Baz, laughing at my stupid stories. Baz, looking at me like he doesn’t hate me, like he cares about me.  _ Baz.  _ I want a truce, but I don’t know how it’s possible. I’m the Mage’s Heir, he’s a Pitch. We’re on different sides of a war. “Baz, I… yes, I want a truce.”

“You don’t sound very sure.” He falters.

“I want a truce, I want  _ you,  _ but...” I don’t know what I mean by that, and I wait for Baz to get weirded out, but he only blinks a few times and then waits for me to continue. “It’s not going to be easy. Your family, the Mage… The prophecy.”

“Fuck the prophecy.” Baz responds, with the most confident voice I’ve heard from him tonight.

“Are you serious?”

“We don’t even know if it’s about us, Snow. I’m getting really tired of letting it affect me like this.” I’m assuming he’s referring to the nightmares, the constant fear of hurting me.

“But everyone says it’s about us.” I insist.

“Well… fuck everyone!” He states, and then adds, “Not in the good way.”

“Crowley, Baz!” I punch his arm, but I’m laughing.

Baz has this rare, genuine smile on his face that I think is only reserved for moments like this - wrapped under the covers, surrounded by moonlight, like we’re the only two people in the world. “So…?”

I’m still reluctant, every time I think of the Mage’s disappointed face. “You really don’t think the prophecy is about us?”

He pulls me closer. “I fully intend on creating my own destiny, Snow. I’d like you to be in it.”

_ “Oh. _ ” 

Baz’s confidence wavers a bit. “I mean… if you want.”

“I want,” I say immediately.

“Truce, then?” 

“Truce.” 

Impulsively, I kiss him on the forehead. 

His voice comes out flustered, “It’s late, I… Maybe we should get some sleep?” 

I’m nervous that I went too far until I see the faint blush creeping over Baz’s cheeks and a soft smile that he tries to hide. Mustering up my courage, I ask,  “Can I kiss you again, Baz?”

“Yes,” He whispers.

As my heart pounds, I realize that I  _ really really  _ want to kiss him on the lips. I lean in, cautiously, until our lips are almost touching. “Can I?”

Baz closes the gap, kissing me like it’s something he’s always wanted to do. He murmurs  _ “Simon _ ” against my lips, and  _ “alive”.  _ I hold him, promising myself to never let go. We kiss until we fall asleep, and when the sun comes up, we kiss again. 

Baz stops having nightmares.

**Author's Note:**

> i know this trope is sooo overdone but hey it's one of my faves. i hope you enjoyed this, leave a comment if you want! thanks for reading


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